


Max Stirner pays Engels to have Unfulfilling Missionary Style Sex while Wearing a Dress

by milksoda_a



Category: political rpf - German 19th c.
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27851650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milksoda_a/pseuds/milksoda_a
Summary: h
Relationships: Friedrich Engels/Max Stirner
Kudos: 8





	Max Stirner pays Engels to have Unfulfilling Missionary Style Sex while Wearing a Dress

Stirner stared at the door in front of him and it stared back. Was he really doing this? Was it worth chipping away at his self-righteousness just for some release? Surely, there must be better way than this... perhaps shock therapy? Stirner shook his head. He just needed to get it out of his system. But why with Engels again? Because he couldn't be sure Marx would agree and not spread rumors about him.

His eyes were zooming in on the wood of the door in front of him, eventually going over the lines he planned on saying again. He just needed to knock and Engels would answer the door. He'd present a reasonable argument, some money, and the bag. Speaking of the bag, the handles on the large brown paper shopping bag he was holding were beginning to dampen from how much his hands were sweating. God why was he acting like such a soy boy. He just needs to fucking-

Knock knock knock.

“Who is it?” came the snobby voice.

“Egoist.”

There was silence on the other end for a second before the door opened. Engels looked slightly disheveled as he looked up into Stirner's face. No hello, just expectation of an explanation.

“May I come in?” Stirner asked.

“What for?”

“I'm here for business,” he answered.

“What kind?”

Stirner was beginning to feel agitated, why couldn't the other just let him in to talk?

“I'm here to ask you about your services,” he began and when Engels didn't reply continued, “I have money.”

“Well, why didn't you just say so? Come in, come in,” Engels said buoyantly, the mood becoming lighter as they stepped into the middle of his room with Stirner closing the door behind them.

“Really? I was honestly worried getting paid to do something was against your  _ leftist  _ ideals” Stirner said as he pushed up his glasses

“That isn’t how- I’ll have Marx explain labor theory to you later”

“No please don’t I’m good- Look I just need to talk to you about something.” Hismouth hung open for a moment as he tried to think of what to say “Engels,” Stirner cut himself off, “as you know, the goal in my intimate relationships is to find a wife and have children with her, but as of late my... duties have made it hard for me to settle down properly and find said wife to be intimate with. And... as a man this is, uh,”

As Stirner spoke Engels was becoming more and more discomfited, eyeing the bag and giving “mhms” to show he was listening. Dear God, had the Stirner finally snapped? Was he about to go on some incel rampage and he'd be the first victim? What was in that bag?

“It can lead to frustrations. Sexual. Frustrations. I do not have the time to go looking for a spouse to relieve myself of my... natural desires,” Engels's frown crept into a grin as Stirner went on, “So what it is that I am asking you, is that we have... you and me should have intercourse. I would pay you of course! And uh, this doesn't-”

“Oh Stirner! I am so glad you have finally come to terms with your sexuality!” it was Engels's turn to interrupt as he sat down at his desk with a piece of paper, “Now let's just talk about prices as I get this consent form ready. Are you a top or a bottom?”

“No I-”

“No shame in being a bottom Stirner! Some of my most powerful clients are. If you have any fetishes feel free to let me know so I can give you an accurate price estimate. Wait, do you know what fetishes are?”

“Well no, yes, Engels-”

“Oh is that what's in the bag? I'll do just about anything, what toys did you bring?”

“Toys? No, Engels! Listen to me!”

Stirner's face had become significantly flushed, the notion of Engels not even asking questions about the fact he wanted to have sex with him or trying to poke holes through the explanation, and all this talk about fetishes and toys and positions- this wasn't what he expected. He felt a twinge of disgust at just how eager Engels seemed. Sure it was clearly because he would be making bank off Stirner, but no man under any circumstances should be this enthusiastic about having sex with another man. He tried to push down his own excitement.

“Look, Engels, I just want this to be simple. I'll be in and out,” Stirner tried to explained.

“So you're going to be topping?”, Engels said smirking as he started to write on the piece of paper.

“In and out of your bedroom! All you leftists are the same perverted, degenerate-” Stirner felt his anger dissipate when he remembered the bag he was still holding. “Here,” he sighed.

Engels grabbed the bag and peeked into it. Under the sunglasses Stirner couldn't judge the expression. Engels's eyebrows barely twitched but he remained silent. 

He signed the finished consent form and they bickered about what the price should be, and when Stirner presented the payment Engels began whining about state currency and central banking. It felt like his dick was retracting into itself as he resisted the urge to strangle him

“Fine,” Engels finally huffed taking the money, “I'll convert it later.”

Stirner rolled his eyes as Engels took the bag and went into his closet to change.

“Where did you get this anyway?”

“Marx's room.”

There was a second of just rustling.

“That’s kind of a dick move” 

“I thought there was no private property under communism”

“That’s not what- Oh whatever…” Engels said

“This is private business right Engels?” Now Stirner didn't sound too sure. “This stays between just us right?”

“Of course, I keep all my business with clients in the highest confidentiality,” Engels replied with a laugh, “I mean unless you'd like to recommend my services to any of your other repressed friends...”

Stirner scowled and they remained in silence until Engels finally stepped out. He could feel his face heat up at the sight of him in the green frilly polka dot dress that stood boldly against his yellow aura. There had been a corset to go with it which ever so slightly gave Engels a more feminine figure. The knee high lacy socks also helped give his legs a feminine quality. There was definitely an erection forming in his pants because he was imagining this was a woman and he was just really sex deprived, not because a man was wearing a dress for him and this had unlocked some sort of same-sex humiliation kink he just discovered he had.

Engels smiled back at him and took sultry steps forward. He reached out to touch his chest but Stirner batted his hand away.

“Don't touch me faggot,” he hissed before scratching the back of his neck, “Reflex... look just get on the bed.”

“The things I do for the working class,” Engels said dramatically before crawling onto his bed and spreading his legs.

Stirner unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down before going over. Once he did he was met with the sight of Engels's dress pulled up revealing his flaccid dick. Stirner looked like a deer caught in some headlights before ripping his eyes away and covering them like a kid when the unexpected sex scene comes on during a movie with his parents. He waved his hands violently at Engels.

“I don't want to see that, Engels!” he shrieked, his face looked practically beet red. 

Engels shrugged and pulled the dress down so everything was covered.

“You'd think you'd never seen a dick before,” he said with a slightly uncomfortable air to his voice, “I get you're repressed and all but-”

“I'm paying you to act like a woman, Engels! Women don't have dicks, so I don't want to look at your dick! I want to have sex with a woman, not a man! What don't you get?”

“Stirner, if you want to fuck a woman so bad, we don't have to do this silly roleplay stuff. I can just hook you up with one of my associates, she's in the prostitute business you know, a real professional, not that I'm not-”

“Stop talking!” Stirner boomed.

Nobody was going to get him to say he wanted to fuck a man, this whole roleplay thing was just to ease his conscious so he could tell himself this was his last resort because no one else was available and at least he was pretending it was a woman, it's not gay if you're pretending the guy you're fucking is a woman right?

“Just don't talk, okay?” he seethed, “It just ruins everything, I can't, I can't properly get it up if I'm hearing a guy's voice okay, Engels? So just, shut the fuck up for once in your life, for the whole time.”

Engels wanted to mention the fact that Stirner was pretty damn hard at the moment, but he kept his mouth shut as told. He spread his legs slightly wider and made sure to keep the dress covering him. He patted the spot in front of him as if to say, “Feel free to begin.”

Stirner sighed as he jerked his dick slightly and got onto the bed with him. He positioned himself in front of Engels's ass before Engels suddenly held his hand out in a stopping motion. He grabbed some lube from the bed side table's drawer and handed it over to Stirner who looked at it in disgust. He looked back over at Engels and sighed.

“I suppose it'll feel more like a pussy...” he muttered while squeezing some onto his fingers.

Stirner took Engels's hips and scooted him forward. He hesitantly looked at his fingers before sliding one into Engels's ass. Engels had no reaction to this, he just lied there calmly. Stirner frowned, he'd never done this before. The walls of his ass felt warm and when it twitched slightly around his finger he grimaced. He proceeded to push another in, and then another. Engels tossed his head to the side. He arched back slightly and Stirner tore his fingers out at that.

“You're ready,” he grumbled, slicking his cock with the remaining lube on his fingers.

Stirner finally pushed it in, watching it disappear under the dress. He exhaled as he did so and grabbed onto the ruffles of the dress. This was it, it was finally happening. His dick was in another guy's ass. Or uh, a woman's pussy. Yes. He gripped the ruffles and, staring blankly at the sequins on Engels's waist, began pumping in and out. He didn't want to look him in the face.

Engels focused on the dick inside him. It wasn't as big as some other guy's dicks he had, but it was decent. Every so often the steady pace Stirner was going would break up into aggressive thrusts followed by a pause, and then fast humping. Engels felt himself getting an erection. He winced as it strained against his dress. Every thrust made it bob against the soft material. He went to reach down to touch it but Stirner grabbed his wrist.

“Pleasure is only for the man,” Stirner said indignantly.

Engels gritted his teeth but placed his arms at his side. He gave the USSR flag on the wall behind Stirner a blank stare and tried to take his focus off the throbbing between his legs.

Stirner ran his hands over Engels's thighs for a second before holding his legs up to get a better angle. Engels could see sweat beginning to form on his face as leaned over him, eyes closed tight. The deep flush on his face was beginning toget darker. His eyes widened as Stirner picked up the pace and with one sharp thrust he nailed him straight in the prostate.

“Stirner!”

The surprised moaning of the other's name could have only been expected from Engels at that moment, but it only earned him a harsh slap across the face. Stirner definitely hadn't expected it. He hated how much hearing the other man's voice say his name like set a fire-like feeling under his skin. The slap was involuntary, simply a reflex.

Engels's mouth opened and then closed as he looked to the side in shock. His cheek felt hot from the slap and he wanted to cry out about it but he kept his silence. Stirner clearly wasn't in his right mind and what was the point when he was about to cum anyways. His head buzzed as he heard nothing but small grunts and wet slapping.

And then he did it again. Right on his prostate. And then again. Engels bit his tongue so hard he began to taste blood as he tried to stifle any noise. Jesus, did the Stirner know exactly where to hit? Was he doing it on purpose? His vision got fuzzy and he couldn't take it anymore. He loudly moaned the other's name not caring if he got slapped again while rolling his hips as his cum spurt into the dress.

This pushed Stirner over the edge and he yanked his dick out of Engels before furiously jerking it off. It spewed all over the dress and with a groan he milked out a few more beads of cum. They were both left raggedly breathing as they came down from the high of their orgasms.

Engels settled into his afterglow as he pushed Stirner off him so he could peel himself out of the cum stained dress. Stirner himself was settling into a state of post-nut clarity. Had he really just? He tried to remember what he was thinking of specifically when he came. Was he thinking of a girl or Engels? All of that was so fucking degenerate. His regretful brooding came to a pause when Engels tossed the dress at him.

“You're paying for dry cleaning,” Engels hummed.

Stirner stared blankly at the dress in his lap.

“What?”

“The dry cleaning. This was your idea and I can't imagine Marx would want to find dried cum all over his dress.”

Stirner thought that there had probably already been dried cum before Engels put the dress on. He may have just spent money to have sex with another man but he wasn't about to spend money on the SJW's fag dress. But he kept the thoughts to himself and simply said “okay.”

Engels nodded and dusted off the suit he had put back on. He gave Stirner back the paper bag so he could put the dirty dress in it. With a smile he held out his hand and Stirner awkwardly took it for a handshake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Stirner. Now get out of my room.”

  
  



End file.
